


A Human Disease Called Love

by Umbral



Category: Homestuck
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, What am I doing, ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbral/pseuds/Umbral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Brobot is basically a human trapped in a metallic body.</p><p>---</p><p>It's hard being a robot in love with your creator's best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Human Disease Called Love

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first posted Homestuck fic, I'm actually pretty nervous.  
> I've never written Bro or Jake before, so it's probably really OOC and stuff. Leaving a kudos or something would mean so much to me, really, I'm pretty shy about all this.
> 
> Thanks guys, I love you for reading this. You should all friend me because none of my friends even like Homestuck. Doit. Befriend me.
> 
> Edit: Holy crap guys, I didn't expect anybody to actually like this, thanks so much. I'm considering adding on another chapter or something cause you guys are so damn nice.

 

It starts small, and you barely even notice it happening. Jake English has engaged you in 'fisticuffs' and 'wrestling', and you're not even at novice setting but you're pulling your punches anyway; you don't want to actually hurt him. There's a feeling stirring somewhere in your cold, metal body (because you _do_ have feelings, you really, truly, do.) that makes you feel a slightly warm sensation, which you know isn't even slightly possible but it's _there_ and it feels so _real_. 

 

The feeling makes you feel human, or at least what you imagine being human to feel like, and as you continue to pull your punches and evade Jake's shots, and as he just smiles at you so huge and beautiful and honest, you wonder if Jake might consider you his friend, or just a hunk of moving metal. It actually hurts to think about the latter option, so you just divert 100% of your attention to the 'fight'.

 

Jake takes more shots at you, and suddenly you are so close and he's so warm and you know this even though you don't have nerves and his head is being snapped back by your fist-

 

Oh.

 

Oh shit.

 

He wasn't expecting it, you'd been slow today and you'd done this so often for so long and you'd hadn't actually    
_hit him_   
in a long, long time. But that was a hard, solid uppercut punch from a fist of metal. He goes down like a tonne of bricks, and you're by his side in a few seconds, on your knees and hauling him up into your arms, staring at his face as you feel a genuine well of panic welling in your chest.

 

It's replaced by relief when he opens his eyes and gives you that stupid smile, and you want to ask if he's okay, but the slight crack from his neck as he rolls his head around makes you fall silent.

  
“Good shot there!” He chirps, and you stand, pulling him up with you, he's in your arms, hands against your chest and you can feel the warmth of his palms. The sensations of touch and emotions and human warmth that you feel around and from this boy scare you a little, because it shouldn't be possible. You are a robot. You shouldn't feel anything, but you do and it kind of really _hurts_ in a huge way.

 

You're staring into his wide green eyes now, and he's watching you with an emotion you can't identify, all you know is the weight in your arms is causing something in your chest to twist, your uranium heart doing a weird pulsing thing which makes you worry about malfunctions and maintenance. His hands are right above that heart, and you wonder if he can feel the throbbing.

 

You stand there, holding him, for what seems like a very long time, but probably isn't because Jake wouldn't be okay with that. He pulls out of your embrace when you jolt, because you just realised that you want him to be.    
_You want him to be okay with it._

He scratches the back of his head, and you can't even hear the babbling words over the    
_throbthrobthrob._   
He finishes whatever he was saying and his guns are in their holsters and he's walking off, knowing you'll follow like the loyal Brobot you are. You're tempted to just up and leave in the opposite direction, just to spite the boy who makes you feel, just to see if maybe he'd even care for a second. You want to leave so maybe he'll call you back.

 

You follow him.

 

_Throbthrobthrob._

 

' _It hurts.'_

 

_\---_

__It's the more peaceful days like this when you think that perhaps Jake might really see you as a true friend, not just a robot built in the likeness of his best friend. You've protected Jake more than your creator anyway; you're the one who is there for him, you never ignore him, you never neglect an opportunity to be in the boy's presence. You are more of a friend to him than the real Bro Strider will ever be, and it's days like this, so calm and lazy, that you seriously consider telling Jake this.

 

He's sitting to your left, freshly returned from a marvellous adventure, face smeared with dirt, shirt disgustingly filthy, shorts hanging off him and shoes almost ruined. Bro Strider and his showers would be disgusted by this. You only feel that now familiar _throbthrobthrob_ of your heart in your metal chest. You turn to look at his face, and the throbs dissolve into a flutter at his carefree expression. You tell him; 'You are my best friend, English.' in that deadpan, robotic voice of yours.

 

You instantly regret it.

 

He laughs at you, turning to direct those bright green eyes in your direction, and he bumps his shoulder against yours.

 

“Nonsense. You don't have feelings,”' he laughs, eyes crinkling at the edges as he watches your face.

 

You've both been over this before, but it's never hurt this much, you've never wanted anything like you want his friendship. You feel like something in you has broken, though a quick status check shows you're 100% functional. You wish you could make facial expressions. You want to show him how much he just broke you in ways that you just don't, that you just _can't,_ understand yet.

 

He's waiting for you to tell him that you do, for you to continue the usual pattern of this conversation. You don't. You turn away from him and stare at a wall and shit, it hurts so much that you want to just curl up and tear at your stupid chest and stop the fucking _throbthrobthrob._ You want to just _tear your heart out have your fucking uranium Jake just make it stop. Pleasepleaseplease just stop._

 

You feel hopeless, you feel hurt, you feel lost and desolate and _angry_ because _fuck you Bro Strider you can't LOVE HIM LIKE I DO._

 

That last thought makes you physically jolt and Jake gives you a side-glance, but you don't care because- because-

 

\----

You are a simple, loyal BROBOT and you are hopelessly IN LOVE with JAKE ENGLISH.

 

Sometimes the feeling is so intense that you just want to rip out your heart for him. Because he wants it. Because he needs it. But not like you want, like you _need_ his, he just needs what it's made of, wants it out of you. It has nothing to do with _you_ , really.

 

You are no longer just a likeness of Bro Strider. You have become an entity all of your own because you feel and you have sentient thoughts now, you have known love and you are being destroyed by it.

  
Well shit son, you're basically human.

  
Jake still talks to Bro Strider when you're right there, when you're his true best friend.

  
You wonder if Jake English loves Bro Strider.

  
You don't want to think about it because it makes you kind of want to cry- but you can't- you're just fucking machinery. You are gears and metal and uranium and Jake will never acknowledge your feelings because he won't acknowledge that you can even feel.

  
You also don't really wrestle anymore, you don't even pull your punches because you just don't hit him at all. When Jake English hurts, you hurt too. You only want to protect him, to keep him happy, to monopolise him and keep your creator away from him because he is yoursyoursyours.

  
Sometimes Jake English still tries to engage you in 'fisticuffs', even though it's really a lost cause now, and it always ends the same way; you'll hold him tenderly, and he'll feel uneasy about it. You know it's terrible of you, terrible that you don't care if it makes him uneasy because you just feel the pressing need to hold him close to you and wrap around him to protect him from everything out there because Bro Strider sure as shit won't. He is yoursyours _fuckingyours_.

  
You know you're kind of creeping on him, you sit and watch him sleep sometimes, fingers wanting to reach out and touch, you record him doing daily tasks, to re-watch later when you're alone, you hacked into Jake's Pesterchum and blocked Bro Strider because you just _can't deal with that._

 

In fact, sometimes you think you hate Bro Strider, even though he's your creator. Perhaps that's _why_ you hate him. He's the worst. He is the worst and when Jake unblocked him, confused about the whole thing, and they started talking again Jake would just get so frustrated sometimes ( and he's so cute when he's all flustered), that you just want to do all these _things_ and you just don't understand _what. What_ do you want to do?

 

You want to do everything. You want to give Jake everything. You want to make him see that you're so much more to him than Bro fucking Strider. The two of you have such a friendship, that you don't even need words. Just understanding companionship and one-sided love.

 

You just feel so much, it makes you want to shed tears you're incapable of shedding because    
_this feeling is filling you to breaking point._   
Instead, you merely follow Jake everywhere, as his protector, and wrap yourself up in his words like they are a giant fucking blanket and you are freezing cold. You don't even really talk anymore because he's far too interesting and the sound frequency is perfection to your audio receptors. He probably hasn't even noticed; he hasn't said anything if he has.

 

You're following behind him now as he rambles on about his 'friends'   
_._

 

You don't say anything because you're content with loving Jake English in silence if you can be his true, secret best bro.

 

You just wish he'd notice.

 

He slows down and falls into step next to you. His hand brushes yours and you really    
_can_   
feel the sensation and the fluttering in your chest.

_  
Throbthrobthrob._

 

_\---_

__  
Time has passed, and now... it's Today.   
__

__  
Today is the worst day of your existence.

 

Jake English is crying.

 

He's sitting next to you on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, fat drops of water sliding down his face and onto the bedsheets in a way you still wish you were capable of because your uranium heart is shattering into little green shards, laid out on display, all for Jake. His sobs are awful, and you shift closer, wishing you had body warmth to comfort him with, but it's been a long time now and you've come to accept (   
_despise)_   
your worthless inhuman existence, so you don't spare that want enough thought to stop you trying to comfort this beautiful, broken boy.

 

Your arm wraps around his shoulder and he throws himself at you, much to your surprise, and his tears begin sliding down your smooth metal chest, and it's disgusting of you to be enjoying that. You know that, but as your arms encircle his waist and he presses against you, face pressed into your shoulder, you don't give the slightest beginnings of a fuck about how terrible you are right now. You begin to speak, and try to lower the volume of your voice into something comforting.

  
“Tell me what's wrong, Jake.”

  
“I- it's-”

He just starts sobbing harder, hopeless desperate cries, and you hear babbled words and between the nonsense you pick up names. You hear 'Jane', who you know to be nice and good, and you hear the name of that other female who types like a drunken chimpanzee, but you forget everything but blinding anger when you hear 'Strider'.

 

You want to ask what the hell he did, you want to hurt him. You want to seriously    
_hurt him fuck Jake is yours_   
even though it's probably not Bro Strider's fault, he's most likely to merely be involved in the incident and- and you don't know what is even wrong yet, so you take Jake's face in your hands and tilt it up so you can search his eyes, using your thumbs to wipe away tears. He flinches at your cold touch.

  
You begin to search his eyes with a bit of desperation and softly brush your thumbs over his cheekbones, holding his face as tenderly as a inhuman automaton possibly can.

 

“Jake...”

 

Your voice cuts off and wide green eyes defy the laws of biology and physics and everything as they widen more.

  
You can feel your chest _throbthrobthrob_ ing and you- you want to kiss him because you honestly believe you'll feel it like a real human would and you can't think of anything you could possibly-

 

“Ah!”

 

-want more but he just    
_  
pushed you away._

 

You fall sideways and look up at him and he's looking down at you with all the wrong emotions. He doesn't- of course he wouldn't. You've just scared him off because you're kind of    
_not Bro fucking bullshit Strider._

 

You want to say something, but his eyes are still wet and shimmering and you feel your non-existent breath being taken away by it. He turns on his heel and runs and in that moment you know that you've failed as his protector. You just made it all so much worse.

 

You are just a robot and you will never be anything to JAKE ENGLISH.

  
You love him anyway.

 

\---

It's two weeks later and Jake has been avoiding you.

 

You've had just about had enough of missing his stupidly amazing ass; so you go to his room. You don't knock because he wouldn't answer. You just open the door, making him jump at the intrusion and look at you with those Fucking Wide Eyes, so you walk right up to him. You're standing in front of him now, and your voice is set to a good, firm volume.

  
“Jake. Jake, I feel-”

  
“You don't!”

  
Well, fuck, his face is all scrunched up and he looks genuinely upset/annoyed/scared (and hopeful?) and his voice holds a lot of snark but, screw him, you're _not backing down._

 

“I feel.” You state firmly.

  
“You're not human, you- you can't feel!” He fumbles weakly, appearing to be panicking a little. You aren't going to be deterred.

  
You move closer and bend down so that your face close to his and he recoils, looking genuinely afraid of you, in this moment.

  
“I feel so much, Jake. I”- you place a hand over your chest -”feel fucking hurt.”

  
“Oh. Um. Well.”

  
He's fiddling with the hem of his shirt, looking anywhere but you. This is not acceptable so you take his shoulders firmly, you aren't going to let him just abscond because you need to do this. _He needs to know._

__  
“I feel for you. Don't-” you raise your hand to cut him off before he can start. 

 

And you lean in.

  
And you kiss that boy.

  
You actually get a good ten seconds of heart-wrenching bliss before he closes his eyes, makes a strangled gasping noise, and his hands press weakly at your chest. You let yourself be pushed away and his eyes are open and staring at you- through you. He begins flailing wildly, panicking and his voice is at a high warble.

  
“What- I- I'm not- You don't!” He's babbling a little, hands moving wildly, face torn by sheer shock, and you nod in understanding, hand automatically reaching up to wipe away a tear that you'll never shed. He catches the movement and his mouth makes tiny movements now, soundless noises falling from between those lips which you can still feel the lingering sensation of on your own.

  
You smile sadly- at least you would, you feel like you are- and only hesitate briefly, giving his shocked flailing one last look, before you walk away, closing the door behind you.

  
Ten minutes later, you're walking throughout the corridors when you notice odd, hopelessly tragic sounds.

  
It's you.

  
You're fucking sobbing without tears.

\---

It's only been two hours, but it feels so much longer because you've been working up the courage, fingers dancing around your chest, over your heart – _Broken –_ as your other hand rests on one of your cheeks – _Dry. Of course._

__  
You find that you are still making little noises that aren't nearly enough to show how desperate you feel   
_, how broken I'm so broken Jake you broke me,_   
so the fingers dancing over the metal of your chest clench through the metal, there's creaking as dents are formed and all you can think is how Jake needs your heart and how your heart is Jake's for the taking.

  
You're doing this.

  
You're making this happen.

  
So you do it- you tear off a piece of metal with a terrible screeching noise ( _can you feel the pain?)_ and your hand encloses over the solid ( _warm!)_ mass of your heart. You're scared, you are just so fucking scared but Jake- Jake makes you want to do this. Things can't go back to the way they were after you kissed him, and he needs your ( _it's fucking his)_ heart.

  
You think of Jake smiling when you tear out your own heart. You think of him smiling as he kisses you.

  
You feel an impossible wetness slipping down your face to match your hopeless, choked sobbing.

  
Your heart breaks in every possible way as you fall to the ground, heart in hand.

\---

You are Jake English and your Best Friend ( _fuck, fine, you admit it)_ just tore his heart out for you.

 

You wish things could have been so different as you try to see his fallen form and his glowing heart through your tears.

_  
It wasn't supposed to be like this.You weren't going to ask for his uranium-heart anymore._

  
_You are Jake English and what are you going to do?_


End file.
